We are not youth any longer. We don’t want to take the world by storm. We are fleeing. We fly from ourselves. From our life. We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces.
Erich Maria Remarque„Страданието и болката винаги са задължителни за високото съзнание и за дълбоко чувстващото сърце. Истински великите хора, струва ми се, трябва да изпитват на този свят велика скръб
Erich Maria RemarqueЗавършените жени омръзват лесно. Ценните - също. Отломките - никога. Такива жени се обичат вечно. Те разпалват въображението
Erich Maria RemarqueЖивотът е болест и смъртта започва с раждането. Всяко поемане на дъх, всеки удар на сърцето е вече миг от умирането
Erich Maria RemarqueHaven't you ever observed how we live in an age of self-persecution? What a lot of things there are one might do that one doesn't - and yet why, God only knows. Work has become so tremendously important to-day, because so many have none, I suppose, that it kills everything else... Work, work, work . . . an abominable obsession - and always under the illusion it will be different later. And it never is different. Queer, isn't it, that anyone should do that with his life?
Erich Maria RemarqueModesty and conscientiousness receive their reward only in novels. In life they are exploited and then shoved aside.
Erich Maria RemarqueWith blinded eyes I stared at the sky, this grey, endless sky of a crazy god, who had made life and death for his amusement.
Erich Maria RemarqueČovek gubi hrabrost. Veruje da se može navići na razočaranja. To nije tačno. Ona svaki put sve više bole tako da se čovek uplaši. To je kao da se svaki put više opeče. I svaki put sporije zarasta. Ne želim da se još koji put opečem.
Erich Maria Remarque"Какво представлява всъщност един по-дълъг живот? Само едно по-дълго минало. А бъдещето стига винаги до следващият дъх" -
Ерих Мария Ремарк, "Живот на заем
Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony—Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?
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